


Baby Need Snack

by Plumcot



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Age Play, Breastfeeding, Feeding Kink, Lactation, Male Lactation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Non-Sexual Age Play, Nonbinary Jonathan Sims, Nursing Kink, Other, no i don't know what season this is set in, not explicitly mentioned but that doesn't make him any less nonbinary, sort of?? you'll see
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:28:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23499784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plumcot/pseuds/Plumcot
Summary: Martin runs afoul of an artifact that makes him produce milk. At first he thinks he can handle it; after all he doesn't feel very different. But then he takes one look at skinny, fragile little Jon, and suddenly starts developing the strangest urges.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 19
Kudos: 155





	Baby Need Snack

Someone really needs to start labeling the artifacts better.

Martin wasn’t even planning on taking it, is the thing. The old glass baby bottle with the yellow rubber teat was just in the way of something else he needed, so he touched it for half a second to move it aside, and suddenly there was a pressure in his chest. Next thing he knew he had breasts. And they were leaking. 

So now he’s sitting in the archives, getting fussed over by the other assistants. They’d asked if he felt okay and he was surprised to answer yes. Sure he feels a bit heavier but other than that he just sort of feels like the same old Martin.

Then Jon walks in, and it's like someone hooked a string through Martin's ribs and pulled.

Jon just looks so weak. He’s tiny and strung and he has bags under his eyes, and Martin has the sudden urge to sit on him like a mama bird and protect him from every possible ill he could ever encounter.

Martin doesn't even think about it. Just as Jon is saying "I came as soon as I could, Martin are you-" Martin stands up and pulls him into his arms. His arms envelop Jon completely, and his head is pillowed between Martin's breasts. Martin lets out a sigh and puts his chin on top of Jon's head. No harm can come to him here.

"Er. Martin."

That's when Martin snaps back to reality and realizes what he's doing.

He steps back like he’s been burned, and Jon looks a sight. His eyes are wide and he’s standing stock still, looking at Martin like he doesn’t even know what just happened. He looks like a frazzled cat. 

“Sorry,” Martin squeaks, “I-I-I don’t know why-”

“It’s alright,” Jon says awkwardly, “if you need a hug after- well. I suppose I understand.”

Martin gives a pained laugh, and the conversation turns to what’s next. What to do with the artifact, if there’s a way to reverse it, all that. But in the back of Martin’s mind there’s still that tug. And it remains even after he’s gone home.

Throughout the week, Martin keeps getting the urge to be close to Jon. Well, actually what he wants to do is plop Jon into his lap and never let him go, keep him safe and warm and held and loved. But Jon would never let him do that. So he settles with just sort of following him around, checking up on him and making him tea as usual. And if he happens to brush Jon’s shoulder more than usual, well. Who could prove anything. 

The thing is, it doesn’t go away. If anything it gets stronger. Martin bought a breast pump to help himself with the soreness, and every time he uses it he finds himself, irrationally, thinking of Jon. Not of having sex with Jon. If it were that, Martin could have at least written it off as something vaguely normal. No, every time Martin fits the cup over his teat and the suction starts, all he can think about is what if the cup were Jon’s mouth. What if he were here, suckling at Martin’s breast, growing fat and healthy on his milk. His face heats with shame to think of it but it also feels right. Like if he could have that, everything would suddenly be okay. When his milk stops and he switches the pump off, he has to take some time to bury his face in his hands and wonder what’s wrong with him.

On Monday, Martin comes in to work to see Jon already there. Not unusual. Jon’s been known to come in to work unfathomably early. Martin says hello, gets a mutter in response, then gets to work. 

Throughout the day, though, Jon seems to get testier and testier. He stomps around and grumbles, making demands and then snapping when people don’t acquiesce. Some irrational part of Martin is certain that if he just gathers Jon up in his arms, that will make everything better. But he knows that’s not true. So he does what he usually does; brings Jon tea.

It’s Jon’s favorite; earl grey with one sugar, steeped a little too long. He cracks open the door to Jon’s office and peeks inside. “Tea?” He says, lifting the mug. It’s the one with the cartoon kitten on the front. He figured Jon could use some kittens today.

Jon is bent over his desk, his head in one hand, the other hand furiously scribbling. When he hears Martin he looks up and scowls. “No.”

That’s it. Just no. Martin is taken aback. Jon’s grumbled about his tea before but he’s never outright refused it. He thinks maybe he should just take the hint and leave, but a part of him – a very loud part, now – refuses to back down. He needs to get Jon this tea. “Are you sure?” He says, edging into the room, a coaxing smile on his face.

Jon grits his teeth. “I said no, Martin.”

“I just really think it would make you feel better.”

Jon drops the pen and gives a bitter laugh. “I highly doubt tea on an empty stomach will make me feel better.”

Martin pauses. “Have. Have you not eaten today, Jon?”

“No, I wanted to get some work done before breakfast, but it seems you’re-”

“Jon its _three in the afternoon.”_

Jon freezes at that. His eyes drift up to the clock on the wall, and he sags visibly. “Ah. So it is.”

Martin puts the mug down and moves closer. He has to hold his arms at his sides to keep himself from grabbing Jon and never letting go. “Jon, you have to eat something.”

Jon groans and rubs his hand over his face. “I will. Eventually, Martin. There’s just so much that needs to be done, and it’s all more important than me missing one meal.”

And oh, that hurts. Martin’s heart aches. In a more literal sense, his breasts ache. They’re swollen with milk and he was going to excuse himself to pump after this, but now that seems like a ludicrous waste when Jon is so clearly wasting away. His resolve snaps. “No.”

Jon frowns. “No? What do you mean no- ah!” He’s cut off as Martin walks around the desk and picks him up, settling him in his lap and keeping him in place with an arm around his waist. “Martin what on earth are you doing!?”

“I am not going to just stand by and watch you starve yourself!”

“Oh, and keeping me prisoner in my office is going to get me to eat? You realize I don’t have any food in here. Unless you intend for me to get fat off tea.”

“It’s okay. I have just the thing.” Martin reaches up with the hand not holding Jon, and unbuttons his shirt. 

Jon stares at him in confusion for a moment, and then his eyebrows fly to his hairline. “You’re joking.”

“Nope,” Martin says, popping the “p”. He reaches into his shirt and pulls out one breast, heavy and soft. 

“Absolutely not.” 

Jon makes to stand up but Martin still has one hand around his waist, and he’s vastly stronger. He keeps Jon in place with the same ease one might hold back a kitten. “You need this, Jon. _Please._ Let me help you.” He pulls Jon in closer and holds his teat to his lips. He’s desperate now. If Jon refuses his milk he thinks he might actually cry.

But Jon must be pretty hungry, or maybe just very curious, because after a moment he gives Martin a considering look and parts his lips just so. Martin smiles and guides his teat into Jon’s mouth, and Jon latches on and begins to suckle. Martin’s heart soars. The first few sips are tentative but then Jon must like the taste, because he starts to suck harder, drawing in big mouthfuls. His eyes droop and he sags into Martin’s arms, seemingly content to just lay there and fill his belly. He looks adorable. Almost like a baby.

“There we go.” Martin whispers. “Good. Good Jon. It’s okay now, I’ll take care of you.” Red tints Jon’s cheeks. Now that he’s relaxed Martin can gather him up closer, surround him with his body and shield him from the outside world. He’s so small. Such a sweet, precious little thing, but so fragile. But he’ll grow strong on Martin’s milk. Martin will feed him until he grows fat and full, until his cheeks are rosy and his eyes are bright and Martin’s love for him shows on his very body. 

But that’s a long time off. For now Martin just holds him. He watches Jon suckle with stars in his eyes, marveling over how sweet he is now that he’s got his milk in him. Martin smiles. He kisses the top of Jon’s head. And he begins to rock.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Sleep, My Baby](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25452373) by [Parrhesia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parrhesia/pseuds/Parrhesia)




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